The Art of the Rehash: “The White Lotus’” Predictable but Effective Formula

The pilot episode of “The White Lotus” and the first episode of the series’ third season are not so much a unique artistic creation from creator Mike White as they are carefully engineered narrative products of a somewhat cynical formula. While the series’ pilot is the masterclass of setting up this formula, the third season’s first episode reiterates the recipe. Both episodes offer a look at how a television show can be meticulously created to ensure viewership, as each season’s premiere not only introduces characters and themes but deploys a hook that is predictable but effective. Three seasons in, White has been able to evolve his formula from a simple trick in the first season to a more dramatized rehash in its third.

Both seasons establish the same narrative problematic: The inevitable clash between a beautiful, idyllic setting and the unattractive inner lives of its privileged clientele. In the first episode of season one, the problematic is a clear, satirical observation. The conflicts within the episode are "first-world” problems – a wrong hotel room missing a personal pool, massages booked and parents holding a secret from their children. But these situations serve as a perfect universe for the characters’ larger, but still banal, anxieties. In season three, the first episode shows the problematic being dramatically elevated by involving death, spiritual void and grief — Rick is upset a man not present at the resort, Tim finds out a reporter is investigating illegal activity he was associated with, and three friends arrive for an overdue reunion. This larger scale is less of a natural evolution and more of a calculated escalation. “The White Lotus” moves from critiquing humdrum privilege to analyzing existential despair. While this thematic shift could come off as pretentious, asking deep, philosophical questions about life and death come across as a self-conscious attempt to formulate the show’s voyeuristic gaze.

The sense of place in both episodes serve to contain the characters for a controlled social experiment. Season one’s “Arrivals” uses its Hawaiian resort as a simple narrative container. The setting serves as a sedative bubble where the characters have nowhere to escape their escalating problems. It is a functional backdrop for the interpersonal drama, rather than a location that is its own character. Season three’s “Same Spirits, New Forms” switches it up by attempting to add cultural and thematic weight to its setting in Thailand. The use of Buddhism, death and karma motifs feel more like a superficial veneer than a necessary part of the whole story. While the Thai culture is committed to the scenic backdrop, there is still the same old privileged-people-have-problems-too narrative White is showing.

Both episodes rely on presenting thinly-veiled character archetypes and familiar conflicts. In season one, the conflicts are cliché, as mentioned before: Shane is upset his room does not have a plunge pool, Tanya is upset all the massages are booked and the Mossbacher parents are holding a secret from their children, creating an even more dysfunction within the family. The conflicts are easy for the audience to digest but lack a genuine — and relatable — convolution. In season three, the characters are basically re-castings of similar archetypes from the first season, but have more melodramatic motivations: Rick is angry when he realizes the resort’s owner’s husband isn’t there, Tim starts to panic the first day of his family’s vacation once he learns a journalist is working on a story about illegal activity he was associated with years prior and three childhood friends meet after an overdue reunion but hint at a disconnection. As well, Belinda returns after not being seen for two seasons. While her character’s objective is to train, she has no conflicts revealed in the first episode. However, the stakes are escalated for the other characters but don’t necessarily depict a sign of greater depth. Instead, it shows an attempt to maintain audience interest by raising the dramatic ante.

The two episodes may use an essential gimmick to interest the audience — the appearance of a death that occurred a week later — but the reiteration of said gimmick shows it continues to be central and significantly important. “Arrivals” sets up the narrative hook: The flash-forward to a dead body in a crate being loaded into an airplane. Immediately, the audience is asking “who died?” Is it Rachel? Is it Shane? Is it Mark? This simple question sets up a simple yet effective mystery to keep viewers engaged with a clear goal — figure out who died. “Same Spirits, New Forms” rehashes the gimmick, but in a more visceral and melodramatic approach. Instead of a wooden coffin shown in the opening, the audience is aware of gunfire and discover a body floating face down in water. While not an innovation, it is an escalation as it makes a step away from a simple mystery to a more startling form of storytelling. White is telling viewers he’s going to repeat the process like he did in seasons one and two, but the process will be darker with higher stakes.

The architecture of both episodes sets up a consistent framework. The first episode of season one is the execution of White’s cynical formula, as its brilliance lies in its effectiveness and ability to contain social critique within an entertainment structure. The first episode of season three though is a testament to show’s reliance on that formula, except this time it attempts to add a layer of philosophical gravitas amongst a larger melodrama in its rehash. “The White Lotus” excels at what it does — using a mystery with social satire to expose hypocrisies of its privileged characters — and its formula will most likely continue to evolve over future seasons.

(Photo Editor: Quentin Labrador; Writer: John Oliva; Producer: Michael Chihak)